Triptych
by AllisonWonderland203
Summary: They are a triptych - a single work in three parts. Each piece is separate, related to the other two, but together they make one whole. AU.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

**A/N: An AU in three parts, stemming from my desire to write a story with the Master and Rose, which spiralled out to include the Doctor as well. We're rated M for a reason, just so we're all clear on that too...**

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I.

For the record, he's not staring at her because he wants her. No. No, that's not it. He could have anyone in this club if he wanted – he's vain enough to know that – but he doesn't want her. Even so, he can't take his eyes off her.

His interest in her has nothing to do with wanting to fuck her, but understanding why _Theta _wants to fuck her. He thinks of Theta, geek chic with the Chucks Taylors and skinny jeans and dark-rimmed glasses and great hair, and just cannot picture him with this girl, this chav, with her blonde hair and mascara-caked eyes. Even in the unflattering lights of the club, she looks pretty enough, but if what Romana has told him is to be believed, she's nothing more than a common shop girl from an estate across London.

He takes another drink and watches as she laughs with her friends, trying much too hard to draw attention to herself in that tiny scrap of a dress. He wonders if Theta knows she's here – and more importantly, why he's not with her. Perhaps he's already thinking of running from her too. Wouldn't be a surprise, knowing Theta… the coward.

That was his way, all right. Acting like things were going well, that things like labels and definitions and words didn't matter (and they didn't, not to him, not as long as they were both happy, as long as they were content not to question). Pretending like everything was fine… right up until it wasn't.

Then he would run. Pack up all his belongings and just leave without so much as an explanation, without a reason, without a note or even a forwarding address. Just vanish into thin air only to reappear weeks later with some other bird in tow, taking her everywhere and showing her off as if he couldn't be more proud of himself, the fucking peacock.

And there it is, that sting of jealousy, a hot, ugly churning that makes him reach for his drink, swallowing the amber liquid down until the burning matches the ache inside. He hates Theta, hates the way he feels, hates that he feels so much when, clearly, Theta felt nothing at all. It makes his blood boil and his head pound. Makes him want to hit and hurt and harm, to scream and scare and scar. Makes him mad, mad, mad, mad.

He finishes his drink just as she breaks away from her friends, heading over to the bar for another Sex on the Beach or whatever frilly drink girls like her enjoy so much. He's on his feet before he even knows why he's moving. Later, he'll say that it was spite, or curiosity or _something, _but in the moment he can't identify why he feels drawn to her. All he knows is he has fire in his belly and an itching in his palms to cause some trouble.

And he's the master of causing trouble.

He waits until she's bellied up to the counter, money and breasts pushed out to tempt one of the bartenders into taking her order. With a single-minded determination, he sidles up to her at the bar, his arm brushing hers.

"Close quarters here," he says when she glances his way, his smile deceptively disarming.

"That it is," she responds, casually looking him over before turning her attention back to flagging down a bartender. It's no easy task, with the crowd that's clamoring for service, but he knows this bar, frequents it enough that it's only a few moments before someone heads his way.

"Lucy," he says, flashing the girl a brilliant but false smile. "Should have known you'd not forget me."

"Same thing as usual?" she asks, smiling sweetly at him. He knows she's mad for him, would do anything he asked and then some, and he shamelessly uses it to his advantage.

"You know me so well," he winks. "And one of whatever she's having," he gestures to Theta's girl, who blinks slowly in surprise before turning towards Lucy.

"Rum and coke," she orders. "Double."

He grins. Perhaps she isn't a frilly drinker after all. "You heard the lady."

"Coming right up." Lucy eyes him curiously, but obeys. She's a good girl like that; there's a reason she's his favorite here.

"Thanks," the blonde at his side says, drawing his attention once more.

"No problem. It's murder trying to place an order here."

"They seem to know you, though."

He shrugs. "I've been coming here a while, gotten to know a few people. Not seen you here before. I'd remember."

She rolls her eyes but snickers all the same as Lucy returns with their drinks.

"Here we are," she sets down two glasses, pushing them forward. Theta's girl starts to hand over her money but he beats her to it.

"It's on me," he says, shoving some bills in Lucy's hand and waving her off before she has a chance to tell him what time she gets off shift. He doesn't give a rat's ass, and he's starting to think that fucking her in the men's room at closing time last week was a mistake.

"Thanks," she says, reaching for her drink and looking up at him through her mascara-dark eyelashes. "You didn't have to do that."

"Sure I did," he flashes her another smile. "How else would I get a girl as beautiful as you to talk to me?"

She laughs, taking him by surprise. "That usually work for you?"

He shrugs. "More or less. Question is – is it working right now?"

She grins at him, the tip of her tongue poking out between her teeth. "Might be."

He takes a long, slow sip of his drink. "I'm Harry, by the way."

"Rose," she replies, a smile playing at the corners of her lips.

"Nice to meet you, Rose," he lies through his teeth, smiling and clinking his glass to hers. She lifts her glass to her lips and drinks. He watches the muscles of her throat as she swallows and finds himself thinking of Theta, wondering if she knows what he likes when she takes him in her mouth, if she knows what makes him groan and shudder and lose control. He feels the hate rising up again, like a drumming in his head, and funnels all his anger into charm. "So tell me, Rose… you got a bloke waiting for you somewhere? Should I be on the lookout?"

"Not tonight," she laughs, her blonde curls bobbing. "Although, you may have to fight off my mates if they spot you."

"Ah," he nods knowingly. "Girls' night?"

"Young and wild and free," she grins, flirting back. Perhaps this is going to be easier than he thought. "So what about you? Got a girlfriend hanging about?"

He laughs in earnest. "No… God, no."

"Confirmed bachelor then?" she teases. "Or are you a horrible playboy?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" he says darkly, causing her to smile.

She drops her eyes and he thinks he can see the hint of a blush on her cheeks. When she lifts her eyes again, she's looking at him with curiosity, cocking her head to the side and looking up at him through her lashes. "I can't figure you out, Harry. What is it you're after?"

Perhaps she's cleverer than he first gave her credit for. This is interesting. A new song begins, pulsing bass and drums that beat out a steady four-count he can feel in his head and his chest.

"Dance with me?" he asks on a whim, holding out his hand to her.

She hesitates, nibbling on her lip and shifting on her heels, glancing around for her friends.

"Come on," he smiles at her. "One dance won't hurt anything."

She bites her lip, deliberating a moment more, before she nods. "All right."

"Brilliant," he grins. He finishes off the last of his drink and takes her hand, leading her towards the dance floor. She comes willingly, her hand in his much softer and smaller than he's used to.

He weaves them out into the throng of people, finding just enough space in the mass of writhing bodies to pull her in front of him. He presses up against her from behind, his hands settling on her hips as she begins to move against him. She's tentative, at first, rocking her hips to the beat and settling into a rhythm. Her bum presses back against him and he tightens his hold on her, fingertips sinking into her flesh to better align their movements. Her hands drop to cover his and she grows bolder, rolling her hips against him and leaning back against his chest. He drops his head and presses his lips to the base of her neck. She tastes of sweat and adrenaline and just a touch of fear. Good.

At the start of the next song, he lets his hands wander a little, his fingers splaying over her thighs, caressing her skin through her skirt. Rose lifts a hand, reaching back to curl her fingers around the back of his neck. He's not sure when this turned from dancing to something more, but his body has begun responding to her, and with the way she's pressed against him, grinding her hips into his, there's no way she is unaware of what she's done to him, what she's doing to him.

Without warning, he turns her sharply, spinning her until she is facing him. She wobbles, both from the alcohol and her high heels, and catches herself with her hands on his chest. She is flushed and just a bit breathless and when she lifts her eyes to his, he can see that her pupils are wide with an unmistakable arousal. He tugs her closer, hands around her waist, and shifts a thigh between her legs. She wraps her arms around his neck and they are moving again, hips matching up from an entirely new angle. She grinds down on his leg, seeking the friction he's providing, and he is growing harder every time she rocks forward with the beat.

When the song ends, he doesn't say a word, but grabs her hand, pulling her back they way they came, away from the crowd and the bar and her annoying little friends. She is right behind him, fingers twined in his, her palm slick against his own. He doesn't know what he's doing, doesn't know when he made the decision to fuck her. But he has, and he is. And he's going to damn well enjoy it.

He leads her out the back door, both of them stumbling into the hazy darkness of the back alley. It's much quieter here but he can still make out the bass beat of the music inside the club. He stares at her for a moment, wondering if she's going to bolt now that she realizes what he intends, but she doesn't. Rather, she reaches for him, grabs fistfuls of his shirt and pulls him to her, lifting her chin and capturing his lips in a kiss. As young as she is, she's certainly experienced, if her kiss proves anything. The way she knows just how to use her lips and tongue and teeth is just shy of criminal and, combined with the lingering taste of alcohol on her tongue, he is painfully hard much more quickly than he'd believed possible.

He runs on pure sensation, smell and touch and taste, not thinking beyond this moment. She gasps as his hand works its way between her legs, and she scrabbles at the front of his trousers. He pushes her hands away and does the work himself, quick with his button and fly and shoving his trousers and pants down just enough. With a hand on her shoulder, he turns her away from him; he doesn't want to see her face, doesn't want the feel of her breasts pushing against him, the soft curves and dips of her body where there should be hard angles and lines. He just wants to feel, to close his eyes, to pretend.

He grabs the hem of her already too-short skirt and lifts it even further, exposing her backside. She shivers as he tugs her knickers out of the way, sliding his fingers into her once more. She moans in such a delightful way, pressing back against his hand. He can almost see why Theta enjoys her.

"C-condom," she manages, glancing over her shoulder. "You have one?"

He pulls away and digs in his pocket. He'd come out tonight with the intent of shagging _someone_; he'd just never dreamed that it would be _her_. But, oh, this has been a wonderful surprise. A perfect opportunity to show Theta how in control he really is, even still. Show him that he cannot be beaten, not so easily. Show him just what sort of madness he's capable of.

The latex in place, he presses himself against her, teasing her, taking her hands and lifting them until her palms rest flat on either side of her head.

"Like this," he whispers in her ear and she whimpers in response, shifting restlessly against him. He smirks, wondering if she's ever this wanton when she's with Theta, if he knows just how brazen his pink and yellow girl is, how badly she wants a good fuck.

Without a warning, he drops his hands back to her hips and holds her still as he pushes into her in one strong movement. She gasps and stiffens, her fingers curling into brick wall, pink nail polish chipping on the rough surface. He bites back a moan as he buries himself completely inside of her – hot and wet and so fucking _tight._

He doesn't give her a chance to adjust to him before he sets a rhythm, fucking her fast and hard, needing to get off, not caring if she gets there too. That's not what this is, he tells himself. This is anger and hate and retribution and hurting Theta as badly as he hurt him. He drops his head, latching his mouth to her shoulder, roughly nipping at the skin there as he drives himself in and out of her in short, quick thrusts. This is not about intimacy or lust or pleasure, but damn if she isn't good.

There's the way she's grinding back against him, reaching back to grab at his leg, making these soft, breathy noises he's entirely unaccustomed to and suddenly, despite his intent, she's coming already. He can feel it, her body impossibly tightening further around his cock as she cries out, unintelligible syllables that are not his name and yet not anyone else's. Her orgasm sets off his own and he pounds into her, thrusting hard and deep as he rides the pleasure out until he is spent, splaying out his hands on either side of her head to keep himself upright even as his knees turn to jelly. She shudders beneath him and he pushes himself away from her, slipping out of her body, delighting in her surprised whimper. He turns and leans his back against the wall, staring up at the sky as he catches his breath.

"Well, fuck," he chuckles, glancing over at her.

She's suddenly shy under his gaze, hiding her face behind her hair, looking younger than he's seen her all night. "That was mental," she gasps.

"Wasn't it, though?"

"I've never done that before."

"What? Had a shag behind a club?" he asks, disposing of the condom by way of tossing it in a shadowed corner before tugging his pants and trousers back up.

"Yeah," She drops her eyes and tugs her skirt back down. "I… I don't…"

"What?" he turns towards her, noticing tears welling up in her eyes. Oh, here it comes.

"I… I have a boyfriend," she says, shaking her head, pushing away from the wall, from him, putting a few shaky steps between them. "Oh my god… I wasn't… I wasn't thinking…"

"Rose," he looks at her pointedly, "I wasn't really planning on hanging around."

"I… I know," she says softly, "and it's fine, but I just feel… guilty."

He steps in close to her, reaching out and brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. "You're only human, Rose. Humans make mistakes."

"I guess," she shrugs. "He just can't find out. It would break his heart. We've only been dating a few weeks and…"

"Who's going to tell him? Hmm? I don't even know the bloke," he lies, convincing as always even as he wants to strangle her right there and tell her knows – he _knows._

"Thank you," she offers him a little smile. God, she's so young. "But I should probably be getting back. My friends will be wondering where I am and…"

"It's fine," he nods towards the club. "Better go before they come looking for you."

"Thanks… for… you know," she stammers, her cheeks flushing. "And it was… You were… really good."

"I was thinking the same about you, Rose," he grins at her, dark and shadowed. "I'll not forget you anytime soon."

She gives a little wave of her fingers and turns from him. His eyes follow her as she disappears back into the club, leaving him alone in the dark alley. Satisfaction sings through his veins. This night has gone better than he'd ever imagined.

Regardless of whether or not he ever tells Theta, he has the knowledge that he's fucked him over, fucked his girl, and that's enough to keep the jealousy at bay.

For now at least.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Still not mine.**

**A/N: things get a little slashy here. Just so you know. **

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II.

He finds himself staring up at the Tardis building and scoffing. This is where Theta lives now? This rickety old block of flats with chipping blue paint on its dinged and dingy wooden doors is the place his notoriously tidy ex-(roommate/friend/fuck buddy – take your pick) has chosen as his place of residence? He can't say that it doesn't serve him right. He deserves every inch of this ramshackle building.

He's not entirely sure why he's here, though. He doesn't really have a reason to be, but ever since he found out where Theta is living, he has felt the urge to see him again. For what purpose? He doesn't know. He could rage at him, fly off the handle and scream. He could gloat, brag about having shagged his girlfriend in a dirty alley last weekend. He could be honest, tell him how he's been living since he left, the drinking and the anger and the hole in the drywall from where he put his fist through it that first night alone. But he really doesn't see how any of that would solve anything.  
Not that there's much left to be resolved. Theta has made things perfectly clear.

He spends a few afternoons outside the building, watching and waiting to see if Theta does indeed live here. Part of him refuses to believe it until he sees it. On the third day of his impromptu stakeout, he spies him returning from whatever mad adventure he'd been on.  
Seeing him again isn't what he thought it would be. He'd always assumed that he would be angry, would march right up to him and grab his jacket, slam him into the wall and demand that he explain himself, tell him why he left him alone, why he never came back for him, why why why why?  
But he doesn't. He stays rooted to the spot, his feet seemingly melding into the concrete as he watches Theta disappear right in front of him. Maybe Theta isn't the only coward after all.

It takes him another day to work up the courage (and a viable excuse) to come back, ready to do battle and win. He has plans. A master plan.

He walks up to the door and, even though he finds Theta's name on the directory, runs his thumb over all the buttons and rings all the doorbells – for good measure. Someone buzzes him in and he pushes his way inside, the door creaking and sticking as he does so. He makes his way through the musty lobby with its nearly green fluorescent lighting and up the stairs through tight winding corridors. It isn't long before he's found the flat he's looking for and he knocks loudly, his knuckles rapping the wood four times.

"Just a minute!" he hears Theta shout from within, followed by a few quick thumps. He wonders if Theta's expecting anyone – perhaps he thinks it's Rose come to visit, come for a surprise shag – but when he answers the door, the look on Theta's face is anything but welcoming.

"What are you doing here?"

"Can't an old friend stop by his former roommate's new place?" he smirks, leaning on the doorjamb. "Or is it considered inappropriate to come without warning?"

Theta narrows his eyes, arms folding over his skinny chest. "What do you want?"

"Oh, nothing important," he shrugs, pushing off the doorframe and stepping inside. Theta doesn't stop him as he steps into the center of the room, glancing around flat. Despite what he might have assumed, the room seems bigger on the inside, if that's even possible. It's a studio, a single space for cooking and living and dining and sleeping, but it's laid out extraordinarily well. It's small, obviously, but it feels homey.

He hates it.

"Koschei…" Theta prompts, clearly not amused by his sudden appearance and subsequent inspection of his flat.

"Just returning this," he says, digging his hand into his pocket and producing a small item. "Found it the other day. In your rush to leave, you forgot a couple things. Not unexpected, considering how fast you hightailed it out of there. Anyway, I thought you might be missing this."

He gives it a liquidy little shake before tossing it to Theta, who catches it easily in the cup of his palms, opening them to see what Koschei has brought. He glowers at the little tube in his hands.

"Really?"

"Thought you might be needing it," he shrugs, "now that you've got someone else to fuck. Rose, I think her name is?"

Theta turns from closing the door to glare at him. "How do you know about her?"

"You think I wasn't going to find out? Especially when you've been so discreet, dragging her all over London?"

"Is that what this is about? You're angry that I've met someone new?"

"Don't flatter yourself," he retorts, venom in his voice. "This is about you running away just like you've always done, about you not telling me why."

"I didn't realize that I had to clear my life choices with you first."

"You do when they concern me," Koschei says coolly. "You could have given me any reason. 'I just need more space. I don't like the flat. I just don't want to suck your cock anymore.' Any reason would have been better than just running."

"I knew you would be angry either way," Theta insists. "I thought it was better just to go."

"Bull-fucking-shit," he spits. "You wanted what you wanted and you didn't even bother to clue me in. Thanks."

"I didn't know how to explain…"

"Yeah? Explain what? That you wanted to fuck someone new?" he snaps. "Or did you just not want to feel guilty about it, so you moved halfway across the city to try and forget?"

"I wasn't trying to hurt you," Theta says softly.

"Oh, I think we're past that now… Hurt was a long time ago. Hurt was discovering that you had left, that you were gone, that you'd taken up with some new girl. Now I'm angry. Really angry," Koschei says, stepping right up in his face, his eyes flashing a challenge. "But tell me, honestly, is she worth it? Is little Rose as sweet as her name?"

"Don't talk about her," Theta warns, his eyes growing dark.

"Touch a nerve there?" Koschei grins. "She must be, for you to have left me for her."

"We are not having this conversation," Theta turns from him, stiffening his spine as crosses the room to straighten clutter on a bookshelf.

Nonplussed, Koschei creeps up behind him and leans in close, feeling him tense at his nearness, letting his breath hover near Theta's ear. "Have you fucked her yet?"

"STOP!" Theta pushes him away, causing him to stumble a few steps back. Koschei just laughs.

"Oh, you haven't yet, have you? Well, has she at least gone down on you yet? Dropped to her knees and taken you in her mouth and sucked you off?"

"That's enough!" Theta moves to shove him again, but Koschei is ready, quick to dodge and catch him, turning him back around until he has him pressed up against a nearby expanse of wall between the bookcase and a desk.

"Does she know you like it rough like this? How it gets you off?" he hisses in his ear, his hand coming around to cup him through his jeans. "Seems to me like you're just about halfway there already."

"Kos…" Theta gasps, the sound rough and harsh. "What…?"

"Shh," he whispers harshly in Theta's ear, putting more pressure on his groin, his fingers already fumbling with the button and fly. Theta groans, squirming, but he doesn't say stop. Koschei knows he's being aggressive, that he's moving fast, but at any point, Theta could say no, push him away, demand he stop. He would honor that request; his rage has limits, after all. But Theta doesn't say a word.

"I'm with Rose now," Theta manages, his voice barely above a whisper, as if he is reminding himself of this fact.

"Forget about her. You can't have told her about me anyway. Just let this," he punctuates his statement by shoving his hand past the waistband of his jeans and pants, gripping his cock in a tight fist, "be one more thing you never tell her."

Theta curses even as his hips buck forward into his hand, seeing greater contact from fingers on flesh. Koschei grins and begins to move his hand in a slow rhythm, steady and sure. When Theta gives no objection, he slips his thumb over the tip of him, feeling the slick moisture there as he grows harder in his hand. From over his shoulder, Koschei can see his fingers gripping the edge of the bookcase, see the cords of muscle in his neck as he gasps and strains under the crushing weight of the pleasure he feels.  
It's all so familiar, so easy.

Koschei starts to work his hand faster, tightening his grip and adding a twist to his stroke, just the way he knows Theta likes. Theta curses again, his hips now moving in counterpoint to Koschei's strokes. He's close now, Koschei can tell by the way he makes that noise in the back of his throat and begins tensing up. In response, he pumps his hand frantically now, pressing his hips into Theta's ass to ease the ache in his own cock, when Theta suddenly grabs his wrist, stilling his hand.

Koschei stops instantly, biting back a groan of disappointment. How else had the imagined this was going to go? He should have known better, should have known that Theta would put a stop to this before it crossed a line. But he had been so fucking close. Theta had been so fucking close.

There's a moment of confusion as his grip slackens, as Theta pushes his hand away and turns, staring at him with eyes wide and black with lust before grabbing a fistful of his black hoodie and hauling him back in. Koschei isn't sure what's going on here, isn't sure that Theta fully knows either, but he can't keep the smirk off his face all the same.

"That it, then?" he asks. "What are you gonna do? You just gonna stand there and — FUCK!"

The last is shouted as Theta suddenly grinds the heel of his palm into the bulge in his trousers, his other hand wrapping around his neck to pull him in and meet their mouths together. There's no finesse (not that there ever was, really), just lips and tongue and teeth knocking together and the rasp of stubble against skin. Somewhere in the haze of sensation, he is aware of Theta fumbling with his fly, his hands managing to push his jeans and pants down just enough. There is a moment of clarity as Theta's long fingers wrap around his cock, his touch feeling right in a way that no one else's has since. He can't hold back the grunt that escapes his lips as Theta's hand tightens and twists.  
What happens next, he's not completely sure of, lost to sensation as he is. They stumble towards Theta's bed, shedding clothes as they go. Though he was always the master of this relationship, Koschei allows Theta to push him down and roll him over. He likes this domineering side, likes it a lot. He listens as Theta scrambles to find the lube he'd tossed aside. He hears the snick of the cap opening and the wet slick sounds as Theta coats himself first and he second, fingers slippery and slick as they enter him. He groans at the feeling, gripping the bedspread and clenching his teeth. It's good, so fucking good.

There's a moment when he realizes how fucked this is; the irony isn't lost on him as the thinks about what's going to happen, about what happened with Theta's girlfriend just a few days ago, and that he's going to have fucked with both of them.

He's two for two. That must be some sort of record.

There's the quick, familiar rustle of a foil packet and then Theta is pushing inside, careful as he ever was, going slow and holding back despite the pleasure that makes his muscles tremble, patient as he waits for the go ahead. It's so, so good the way he stretches and fills him up, the pleasure/pain sharp and all he ever wants. All he ever wants. He's too proud to admit it, but he misses him, misses this.

He nods briefly and Theta begins to move in slow, careful strokes as they find a rhythm. He can hear him behind him, panting and cursing and fuck and good and yes. It isn't long before he feels orgasm creeping up on him and he's coming fast, faster than he wants to admit. Only Theta could ever do that to him, push him to the edge so quickly.

He cries out sharply, barking out several unintelligible curses as he comes all over Theta's sheets. It gives him a perverse sense of pride to do so and it's seconds more before Theta follows him, giving several final sharp thrusts before stiffening. He pulls out almost instantly, even remembering to ease out slowly, and collapses onto his stomach beside him.

For a moment, they lie there in silence, both trying to catch their breath, their hearts beating out a steady thump-thump-thump-thump.

"I… I can't believe we did that," Theta pants, dragging a hand through his hair, causing it to stick up in the most delightful of ways.

"Don't act so surprised," Koschei rolls over on to his back to stare at the ceiling while he collects himself. "Not like that's the first time a shoving match turned into a fucking match."

"We're not together anymore," Theta says, his voice flat. Koschei snorts, causing Theta to look over at him sharply.

"Were we ever?" he asks, laughing. "Really?"

Theta doesn't say anything, but several moments later he gets up and heads to the bathroom, closing the door behind him. Running again. Always putting distance between them.

Guess that answers that.

Koschei gets up, finding his clothes and putting himself back together. There's no use in sticking around – he's done what he came to do. As he finishes tugging his sweatshirt over his head, his eyes land on the stack of Post-It notes on Theta's desk. He stares at them for a long minute, wondering if he should leave him a note, something short and sweet and appropriate, like – "P.S. – I fucked Rose too."

His hand twitches toward the pen, but he stops, curling his fingers back into a fist. No. No, he thinks he likes this better. Now that he's fucked both of them, he's done his part. Now he can sit back and watch as they destroy themselves with guilt. He knows Rose will – she'd started simpering just as soon as she'd come – and Theta… Theta will brood for weeks, if he's lucky. And he's already been lucky twice, he smirks to himself.

They don't call him the Master for nothing.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: Not mine**

**A/N: The final chapter. **

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III.

This is wonderful. Theta's wonderful. This is their first time making love and it's everything she hoped it would be. He is gentle and thorough and exactly the sort of lover she'd always imagined she'd have.

The way he fits between her thighs and fills her, stretching her wide and making her toes curl in pleasure. This. This. This. She moves with him, panting as he thrusts into her. Hands and hips and lips all over her, covering her, marking her, claiming her.

She is his, finally, fully. She was been waiting for this, for him. Everything about their relationship has been so right, so perfect that sometimes she wonders if she's dreaming. But, oh, oh, how could she be? She could never have imagined someone so unexpectedly right for her. She doesn't deserve him, doesn't know how she managed to attract the attention of someone like _him_, but she doesn't care – oh, fuck, she couldn't care right now.

Everything about this moment is as it should be – his breath on her face, his voice whispering in her ear, his body lean and hard against hers – he's everything she wants.

…Except she can't get another man out of her head.

…

She's everything he hoped she would be, soft and yielding and perfectly pink and yellow. She's fantastic, the way she opens her heart and her body to him, welcoming him at last, at last.

They've only been seeing each other for a few weeks now, but it feels like much, much longer. Their relationship has been a whirlwind, but he feels like he's known her forever. She fits into his life like she was meant to be there, like there was a void that until now he had been trying to fill with all the wrong things – a square peg for a round hole.

_(No, _he thinks, _horrible metaphor.)_

He trembles as he holds himself above her, in her. Fuck, she feels amazing. He can't help think of tightness, even tighter than her slick, hot muscles around them. He is used to going slow, to waiting.

_(Again – no, _he gives his head a little shake. _Think about Rose, Rose, Rose.)_

When he does move, it's an even, steady pace – in and out – smooth strokes, fluid and controlled. He doesn't want to hurt her by moving too fast, too rough.

(_Stop that. Stop it! Get your head back in _this _game.)_

…

He's perfect. He really is, but perfect isn't what she wants right now. She doesn't want slow and tender; she wants him to fuck her. She aches for him to move fast and hard and rough and _now._ She needs more, more, _more. _She scrapes her fingernails down his back to his bum, hoping to inspire him to move faster.

_Please, _she whispers. _Please._

He groans in answer as his hips move erratically against hers, stuttering in their rhythm, creating a deliciously unexpected friction. She wraps her legs tighter around his hips.

_Yes, _she breathes in his ear. _Oh, yes…_

…

She is going to be the death of him – an exquisite death, but a death all the same. He'll never be able to hold back if she keeps doing _that_, with her fingers and her wanton little whispers and her legs so smooth and tight around him. He just wants to make sure this is good for her. He's not sure what she likes, how much is too much, but he can't hold back anymore. He's tired of trying to.

He drops his mouth to the curve of her shoulder and bites gently, picking up the pace of his hips.

…

She feels it building, a coiling heat in her belly. Finally, he's moving, giving her what he needs. She can't do slow and gentle, can't get off to his sweet lovemaking. She wants to be fucked, fucked like a drunken slut in an alley.

She hates herself for thinking so.

…

Without thinking, he pulls out, flips her over, and enters her again, his thrusts rough and hard and merciless. He grips her hips and slams home over and over and over. Oh, he can't stop. He needs this, needs this, needs this to come.

He hates himself for thinking so.

…

This – this was what she wanted all along. She gasps, clenching the sheets in her fists, pushing back against him.

…

This – this is how he wanted her, on her knees, letting him have control, letting him take her like this.

…

She is close, so goddamn close. Just a little more…

…

Any moment now, he knows it's all going to end.

…

Oh god, oh fuck, oh…

…

This is it, this is…

…

She cries out.

…

He curses, groaning.

…

Bliss.

…

Relief.

…

But also, guilt.

…

He feels ashamed.

…

She was thinking about Harry.

…

He'd been thinking of Koschei.

…

She curls into his side, hiding her eyes from him.

…

He holds her, wondering what it was they just shared.

…

She's not sure of anything.

…

He knows he loves her.

…

_I love you._

…

_I love you._

…

Secrets.

…

Lies.


End file.
